


Bleeding

by localpharmacist



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, I don't know, I like to feel the pressure of tears behind my eyelids, Kinda, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentioned Hinata Shouyou, Mentioned Kageyama Kazuyo, Mentioned Kageyama Miwa, Mentioned Yachi Hitoka, Mentioned Yamaguchi Tadashi, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Rejection, Third Year Hinata Shouyou, Third Year Kageyama Tobio, Third Year Tsukishima Kei, Third Year Yachi Hitoka, Third Year Yamaguchi Tadashi, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:36:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27518488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/localpharmacist/pseuds/localpharmacist
Summary: Kageyama's heart shattered, and it had piled up in the pit of his stomach, a mess of bloody shards.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 21
Kudos: 123





	Bleeding

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, I'm not very sure about this one. This is the first time I write something angst-y, so please forgive me if it's not hitting the mark. Although I hope you guys will be able to enjoy this one as well!
> 
> Also they might appear to be really ooc, and you might find several mistakes, so I apologize in advance.

As the thunder rumbled outside, grey clouds tumbling and rolling, he thought of the hollowness that was settled inside of him. The throbbing feeling that he had tried to ignore every now and then and the small sting that had been nagging at him, they grew stronger on rainy days for some unknown reason. He didn't know much, but he was sure emptiness should be devoid of anything at all, and yet, as years pased by, he'd grown to learn that the dark gaping hole in his chest contained more than his beating heart, though he did not know for sure what laid inside it.

Happiness was something that Kageyama couldn't understand fully. He thought that as long as he was playing volleyball, he would be happy. The rapid beating of his heart served as a proof for his joy. Although, to be quite honest, he couldn't really tell if it was pure happiness or the exhilaration from playing sports. Or maybe they were the same thing after all? If they were then Kageyama didn't know.

His grandfather had taught him everything about volleyball. He had taught him everything about working hard, keeping the spirit of his fight intact and alive. He had taught him to never give up, to be strong, to be able to lift his own weight. Kageyama was someone who needed people to really spell things out for him when it came to something other than volleyball, but his grandfather hadn't had enough time to do so.

_"If you get really good, then you'll meet someone even better!"_

His grandfather was talking about volleyball at that time, but Kageyama wondered if that also applied for other things as well.

If he got really good at volleyball, then he would meet stronger players.

If he got really good at school, then he would receive better grades.

If he got really good at socializing, then he would be able to talk easier.

If he got really good at showing his feelings- surely, there was something to gain.

He was great with his body, he always knew what to do with it. He had quick reflexes, he knew how to move around. He had an amazing control over his body, his arms, his legs. His eyes always knew what they were looking at, and his brain was quick to catch up when it came to volleyball. He was always moving so fast, jumping so high, just to distract himself from the slow process of his feelings.

Kageyama cracked his eyes open, meeting the ceiling of the club room. The light, with soft yellow hue, made him squint a little to adjust to it. He was laying down on the floor, his head resting on his bag. The cold wind had slipped through the small crack of the door and tickled his bare legs. He was changing after practice but had stopped on his sweatpants, so his bottom was clad in his boxers. Practice was cut short due to the basketball team who needed to use the gym since they had a match coming up, but Kageyama felt like it was the longest practice they ever had.

He wondered if it was the rain that had made his limbs numb from exhaustion. Did the cold weather dampen his mood and his energy? Kageyama's eyes shifted to windows. The raindrops were hitting the glass. Maybe it did.

"You're going to catch a cold if you stay like that."

He looked to his right to see Tsukishima putting his shirt on, his glasses sitting on the shelves. Kageyama watched as the middle blocker reached for his jacket, then his glasses. He looked at Kageyama unimpressively, wordlessly, and Kageyama looked at him back.

The rest of the team had went home first. Hinata had left in a hurry because his little sister was home alone. Yamaguchi had to run an errand for his mother, and he was worried that the rain was going to worsen if he didn't leave. Yachi had to prepare a family dinner for her mother who was coming back from a business trip. The first and second years were called by their parents to get home earlier because of the rain.

Kageyama didn't have a reason to go home in a hurry. Kageyama didn't have anyone waiting at home.

Tsukishima though, he did. Kageyama wasn't sure why he was staying back.

The middle blocker had insisted that it was okay for him to stay and help Kageyama with cleaning the gym, and Yamaguchi had looked so proud that he almost teared up. Hinata had said that Tsukishima was probably going to murder Kageyama, but they all knew it was just a joke. They got along much better now.

Kageyama didn't say anything to Tsukishima. He hadn't said much after the first rumble of the thunder. Even when the two of them were cleaning the gym, he had stayed quiet, listening to the pitter patter of the rain outside. Even when the basketball team piled in, slightly soaked, he had wordlessly nodded his head at them. Tsukishima had done the same. Then they ran to the club room for shelter. Kageyama didn't know why Tsukishima stayed.

He reached for a stray volleyball above his head, then he started to throw it up and catch it in his hands. He listened to the sound of the leather meeting his palms, it was enough to fill the silence in the room, but it wasn't enough to drown out the sound of the rain. It wasn't enough to distract himself.

"King," Tsukishima started again, walking the short distance towards him. "Wear your pants. You're going to catch a cold."

Kageyama didn't say anything. His eyes were focused on the volleyball flying up above him, then coming down to his waiting hands. He was quiet, but inside his head he was counting, and he kept stumbling over the numbers as thunders raged on outside.

His breath was catching up, and it was too fast. He could feel the heaviness of his chest as it rose and fell. The beating of his heart wasn't able to match the rhythm of the volleyball and his hands, and the raindrops against the window had become louder. There was a thunder somewhere, hidden in the sky between the grey clouds. It messed his counting once again.

One, two, three- the ball flew up, but it never came down as two hands shot up to stop it. He faltered at four, but he managed to count out five a little breathlessly inside his head.

His eyes met gold, and his throat tightened up.

The setter watched as Tsukishima sat down next to his lying body, he was looking down at Kageyama with his molten eyes behind those black frames. His blond hair was slightly damp, and the color had appeared a little darker, even under the light that served as a ring of halo on his head. His skin was pale, and he almost looked translucent somehow.

Tsukishima placed the volleyball aside, then he brought one of his hands to touch Kageyama's face, and the vice-captain found it weird how he never really questioned his hands, his touches. He had gotten used to them, he wasn't supposed to, but his skin still tingled with prickling heat whenever they touched him- whenever Tsukishima touched him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and Kageyama didn't know what to say.

Kageyama felt light, but it was alarming to him. It wasn't a feeling that he got when a heavy burden was removed from him. He felt light, like glistening bubbles flying away to the summer sky just to burst. Like a balloon slipping away from a child's grab, not knowing where to go, just going up and up and being blown away by the wind. He felt light, like he was going to evaporate and disappear into the cold air.

He didn't know how to tell Tsukishima this. He didn't know how to string the words together. So instead of answering Tsukishima, he just held Tsukishima's wrist to somehow ground himself in the room with him.

"Kageyama," he said. "What's wrong? Tell me."

His voice was soft, so soft that it scared Kageyama for a second. He sounded so quiet but he filled Kageyama to the point that everything was spilling out, and yet, Kageyama stayed silent. His hands moved up to Tsukishima's broad shoulders, then he pulled him down to a hug.

He could hear Tsukishima groaning slightly as he tried to hold his weight with his forearms against the floor so he wouldn't crush the setter, but Kageyama wanted to feel his weight. He wanted his body to anchor him, to chain him on the _tatami_ mat. He felt like he was going to get picked up by the howling wind outside- what was this feeling?

Kageyama had arms around Tsukishima's back, and he was hiding his face behind the junction of Tsukishima's neck and shoulder. Kageyama exhaled a warm breath out against the fabric of Tsukishima's jacket, and the warmth spread over his face.

"Kageyama-"

"Before my grandfather died," he started quietly, his words were slightly muffled by Tsukishima's jacket.

He had told Tsukishima about his grandfather, although he'd only mentioned how he had lived with his grandfather, who had taught him and Miwa how to play volleyball. He told Tsukishima about how his grandfather was a coach for a female volleyball team. He told him about the passing of his grandfather. These informations were enough to create a smudge- a small and blurry smudge- of Kazuyo-san's long-gone presence, but they weren't enough to create a whole picture of the warmth that Kazuyo-san had provided in Kageyama's earlier days.

"He had been sick. He was becoming weaker and weaker every time I visited him at the hospital," he said when Tsukishima was staying silent.

Kageyama had noticed the frailness of Kazuyo-san's body. He was like a flower wilting slowly. He was losing his colors, his skin had looked so pale and thin, like a paper. His voice wasn't as bright, it was a flicker of a matchstick in the middle of a snowstorm. Kageyama had thought that his grandfather had the biggest and the strongest pair of hands, but as he sat next to his bed in the hospital room, they were small, and his skin had clung to his bones, as if they shrunk.

He had waited. Usually Kazuyo-san would put his hand on top of Kageyama's head, and it would be warm, and he would feel as if he had the safest roof above him. There wouldn't be any storm strong enough to knock it off.

That storm came eventually.

"I should've had cried, but I couldn't."

Kageyama spent most of his life on playing volleyball to the point where everything was revolving around it. With the passing of his grandfather, the only warmth that he knew was the heat of his body while practicing. The only encouragement that he got was the quick pat on the back or the cheering from other people watching on the sidelines. The only pain that he felt was the soreness of his limbs after playing. The only joy that he experienced was when a set worked successfully.

When he stepped out of the court, he didn't know what to think or feel. When he wasn't standing on the court, he felt like some lights inside of him were turned off all at once. Everything felt foreign.

He had wondered if it had something to do with his upbringing, but he had been with Kazuyo-san since day one of his existence. He wondered if it was in his blood; was it really so thick that teachings and words couldn't drill past it and help derive one from their origins? Was Kazuyo-san's love not enough to turn Kageyama into someone who wasn't a vessel of the worst parts of his parents?

He couldn't even shed a tear. His sister didn't either. Just like their parents leaving, or at least that was what Miwa had told him. He didn't know. He could barely remember the faces of the people who had brought him to this world. Miwa remembered, and she brought the memories with her to somewhere far away that it wouldn't be able to touch and hurt Kageyama.

But had she not considered that she hurt Kageyama by doing that?

"My sister left for college in the city and now she lives there. She comes over sometimes to check on things, but she always leaves too quickly," he said, and he could feel Tsukishima shifting a little above him, then his long arms slipped under Kageyama's back.

Kageyama still had to turn the television on to fill the silence of the house, and he would go about his day. He would cook for himself, just simple meals, and the voices from the television would accompany him through it. He would wash the dishes while a man or a woman talked about the weather or the most recent news. He would clean around the house as cheery music of a children's show invited him to sing along. And when the night fell, the screen turned black.

He still had to turn the lights of Miwa and Kazuyo-san's old rooms on as he went to his own. He would imagine that Miwa was working on her homework or talking to her friends on her phone, while Kazuyo-san was reading a book in his bedroom or maybe writing things down on the notebook that he used to carry around.

And Kageyama would stare at the ceiling of his bedroom, until sleep decided to take him away to a place where he didn't have to imagine them being there with him.

"They left," he said, his voice was barely above a whisper, but he knew that Tsukishima heard him, because the taller boy pulled away to look at him.

Kageyama immediately took Tsukishima's glasses off, holding them carefully so that he wouldn't touch the lenses and dirty them. Tsukishima was looking down at him and he looked so much younger like this, so much softer. He looked like one of those actors from a Western movie or those princes from those illustrations in a children storybook.

He knew that he appeared blurry in Tsukishima's eyes, but still, he couldn't help but wonder what Tsukishima saw when he looked at Kageyama like this.

"You're not alone," Tsukishima started quietly, his golden eyes darted away somewhere on the floor, searching for something to say.

Kageyama felt his stomach turning slightly. He knew that Tsukishima had always been bad at the art of consolation, and he couldn't really blame the middle blocker, he was terrible at it himself. The only person that he was able to comfort was Hinata, and it was because of volleyball. Hinata was the best decoy. Hinata could fly higher. Hinata could grow stronger. Hinata would be better. Hinata was a good teammate.

The first time he told Hinata that he was a good friend, the shorter boy had teared up.

He had thought that Hinata was sad, and that he didn't want to be Kageyama's friend. He had panicked. Had he misinterpreted their whole friendship then? Was he just a mere rival? Just like he was to Kindaichi?

But then Hinata had said, _"You've never said that before,"_ and _"You're not so bad yourself, Bakageyama! You're my best friend!"_

Tsukishima wasn't good at that, and Kageyama knew, and he felt terrible for putting him in a situation where he had to provide comfort for Kageyama who didn't even know what his own problems were. 

Kageyama rose up, placing Tsukishima's glasses on the floor. His hands hesitated, but he lift them up, touching Tsukishima's face carefully and hesitantly. Tsukishima did it to him a few times before, and it felt nice to lean in to his big hands. He couldn't remember if Miwa had done the same to him, and if she had then Kageyama couldn't recall the warmth and softness of her hands.

He had seen Hinata did it to his little sister whenever she was upset, he even did the same to Kageyama just to tease him. Yamaguchi would touch him this way, not only him but the others as well whenever they had an accident with a flying volleyball meeting their faces. Yachi touched him like this once when he had a fever, and she had scolded him for being reckless.

And he still found it hard to do the same to other people. He was afraid that they might break under his touch.

Tsukishima's eyes flickered to meet his own pair, his light eyebrows twitching as he looked at Kageyama.

"You're not alone," Tsukishima repeated, and this time he sounded so sure of his own words.

"I don't talk to her that much," he said. "I always try to think of something to say to her. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough."

Tsukishima holds his wrists. "You always try, Kageyama. That's all that matters."

Being in the same room as Miwa had felt familiar and foreign at the same time. Her footsteps still sounded the same, but as Kageyama lifted his head up to look at her, she wasn't the same person in his memories.

There was the physical change, of course. Kageyama remembered that Miwa had chosen to stop playing volleyball because she didn't want to cut her long hair, but she had a short hair now, as an adult. She was also taller, her eyes sharper, and her voice wasn't as bright and light. Kageyama had thought it was weird. He had never seen age affected someone this much before. Kazuyo-san had always been a grandfather- their grandfather, and Kageyama couldn't imagine him as someone younger; Kageyama Kazuyo who was still in his prime, playing as a setter for his high school volleyball team.

But Kageyama knew Miwa when she was younger, when she used to play volleyball together with him and Kazuyo-san, when she used to pay a lot attention to her appearance, when she used to tease Kageyama. Kageyama had stood next to Miwa whom he had outgrown in height as the two of them faced the picture of Kazuyo-san framed with flowers. Kageyama had watched her back as she left him.

She came back, and she sounded and looked different.

"It doesn't really matter because she never stayed long enough to watch me fail," he said, hanging his head low. "I don't blame her. I would do the same. We were never good at handling things like that, we're the same, but I'm worse than her."

"Kageyama." It was Tsukishima's turn to cup Kageyama's face, and the setter let his hands fall to clutch the hem of Tsukishima's jacket. "You're not worse than her. It's not an easy thing to do."

 _But she's my sister,_ he wanted to say. _I should know how to talk to her._

He heard Tsukishima calling his name again, but his eyes were casted down, staring at his own bare thighs. Tsukishima had an older brother, and they always talked, always knew what to say despite what had happened between them. Kageyama hadn't heard about it out of Tsukishima's mouth himself, but Akiteru had been so trusting that he told Kageyama during one of Kageyama's visits to Tsukishima's house.

He had asked Tsukishima about it once, and the blond had only smiled and confirmed that it did happen. Kageyama didn't ask him if it still bothered him somehow. The serene calmness on his face had provided the answer to Kageyama.

"Even if she's your sister, your family," Tsukishima said, and Kageyama thought he had read his mind. "It always takes time to talk about things. It took me quite a while to do it."

He looked up at Tsukishima, and his face was so close that he was sure Tsukishima could see him even without the glasses. Kageyama opted to hide his face to the crook of Tsukishima's neck, the crown of his head meeting Tsukishima's chin. Tsukishima's big hands moved to pull him on his lap, and he began to draw soothing circles with his rough fingers on Kageyama's thigh and back.

"I miss her," Kageyama whispered. He wondered if Miwa felt the same.

"Then tell her," Tsukishima replied. "I'm pretty sure that she misses you as well."

Kageyama couldn't help but to flinch. "How can you be so sure about that?"

"You said it yourself. The two of you are the same."

Kageyama thought about it. If Miwa did miss him then she had never shown it. And then he thought again. He missed Miwa but he had never said or acted like it. He didn't know how to. Did Miwa not know either?

She had always been the smarter of the two, and the one who was more outgoing and friendly. Kazuyo-san had said that Miwa was a charmer and people liked her. But had Miwa experienced those moments where she couldn't do anything but to stare blankly at someone's retreating figure as they left?

Well, she did watch their parents leave.

"You're not alone." Determination and reassurance filled Tsukishima's gentle voice as he pulled Kageyama closer.

But Kageyama pulled away to look at him. "Why did you stay, Tsukishima?"

Tsukishima arched an eyebrow at the question that seemingly came out of nowhere, but as they looked at each other wordlessly, in those few seconds, it dawned on him what Kageyama meant.

His eyes softened. "You know why." 

Kageyama nodded his head softly.

"I can tell you again if you want to hear it." 

He stared at Tsukishima's eyes, studying the specks of gold and brown scattered all around his irises. He thought of chocolate wrappers, the wrinkles of the golden foil. He thought of the heat of a lightbulb, thought of a melting caramel candy, of the flare of the rising sun in early mornings. He thought of the sand on the beach, thought of the bells in the shrine.

For a few seconds, the room was only filled with the sound of the rain. For a few seconds, they were only looking at each other wordlessly. For a few seconds, the unpleasant feeling that was settled in his stomach spiked up and trailed up his throat.

He thought of things, a lot of things, and he found all of them in Tsukishima's eyes. It scared him so much.

"Because I don't want to leave you," Tsukishima said in a quiet voice. "I want to stay with you."

Kageyama was worried that the sound of the rain would drown Tsukishima's answer, but he could hear him just fine, because he felt his own throat closing up and his stomach twisting in a knot. The warmth dripped and dripped to fill the pit of his stomach. It went up and up and swallowed his heart, his lungs. He felt his chest swelling. He was afraid that his bones and flesh wouldn't be able to contain the feelings and they would just tear and burst through his skin.

He could feel his own lips tingling and twitching. He tried to press them together to stop the wobbly movement, but they were trembling.

Tsukishima's eyes were pinning him to his place. They were ropes tying Kageyama up. They were looking at him, through him, and Kageyama could do nothing but selfishly hope that they would continue to look at him.

But that wouldn't be fair to Tsukishima. None of this was fair to him.

"Tsukishima, I-" he cut himself off, swallowing down a lump in his throat. He didn't know what to say.

"Was that too much? I'm sorry. I just thought that- sorry," he looked down, exhaling heavily.

The middle blocker was never good with words, despite all of his smart insults and deep jabs. When it came to something more tender, like care and love, he would always stumble, but he had tried his best every time Kageyama needed to hear something other than his own jumbled thoughts. It was so selfish of him. So, so unfair to Tsukishima.

Kageyama shook his head, looking down. "You don't have to apologize."

Kageyama feared that he wouldn't be able to love Tsukishima properly. He was afraid that he wouldn't be able to look at Tsukishima and stay in the present with him. He didn't want to hurt Tsukishima by not giving their relationship his whole.

But wasn't this hurting Tsukishima even more? By toeing on the line that he had drawn between himself and Tsukishima? Wasn't this just mean for him to do?

He had thought by letting Tsukishima touch him like this, it would be enough to protect Tsukishima's heart from the fact that he had rejected it when it was given to him, bloody and raw. But wasn't Kageyama just stabbing it with his own insecurity? He never gave Tsukishima his everything. He thought he had nothing to give to him, and even if he did, they were not good enough for Tsukishima. Was this also a curse of his blood?

His parents left. His grandfather left. His sister left. He couldn't even make them stay, and blood was supposed to be thicker than anything else.

 _"I'm_ sorry, Tsukishima," he whispered almost breathlessly, closing his eyes.

There was a lingering pause in the air, and Kageyama did not dare to open his eyes to look at the other boy. He could feel it in the way Tsukishima's arms around him loosened, and his heartbeat picked up again, as if he had just finished running laps.

"Do you not want me to stay?" Tsukishima asked after being silent, and Kageyama's heart clenched painfully. 

He didn't like the way Tsukishima asked the question. His voice didn't hold the sharp coldness he had expected to hear. It sounded more like a pleading, as if he was desperate. So small and weak, and it terrified him. He didn't want to hear this kind of voice from Tsukishima. He was supposed to be more harsh, crueler with his words. Not this.

"It's not good for you to stay here for too long," he replied after releasing a shaky breath. 

"How about you?" 

"This is where I belong." 

"Let me take you somewhere else then." 

He shook his head firmly, his teeth tucking his bottom lip in. Kageyama placed his trembling hands against Tsukishima's chest, and with a shaky strength he pushed him away, just far enough so he wouldn't be able to feel his breath on his skin. 

And on his hands he could feel the breaking of Tsukishima's heart. 

_"I'm sorry, Tsukishima. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."_

Kageyama felt a force behind his eyelids, painful and hot as it tried to push itself out of his eyes, but he squeezed his eyes close even harder that it felt like they were going to be permanently shut for the rest of his life. 

He struggled with keeping the sobs on the back of his throat. He didn't want to cry in front of Tsukishima. He didn't want to make it look like as if he was the one who had his heart broken. He didn't want to look like as if he was the one who was rejected and now used to provide comfort and emotional support. He didn't want to hurt Tsukishima anymore. 

But he knew he just did. He always did. 

"Can I at least kiss you?" 

The words, like a magic charm, made Kageyama raise his head up and open his eyes. He regretted looking at Tsukishima. He didn't like the way the middle blocker furrowed his eyebrows together, eyes slightly glassy, and his smile was strange- he looked as if he was wincing, holding his pain back. Kageyama supposed he was holding it back. 

Of all the things that he had expected Tsukishima to do, asking him for a kiss was not one of them. 

And of all the things that he had expected himself to do, nodding his head to that request was not one of them. 

Tsukishima closed the distance that Kageyama had built between them slowly, carefully, as if afraid that Kageyama would change his mind and back away. Kageyama couldn't do anything but close his eyes once again. He felt Tsukishima's soft breathing on his face, so familiar as his heartbeat picked up its quick rhythm, and then he felt heat radiating against his lips, then something soft and warm. 

He could feel the middle blocker's big hands cupping his face again, with the same gentleness that they had possessed earlier even after what Kageyama did. Kageyama's heart shattered, and it had piled up in the pit of his stomach, a mess of bloody shards. 

Kageyama's first kiss lasted for a few seconds, and by the time Tsukishima pulled away, Kageyama had decided that it was going to be his last, but not Tsukishima's. He wanted Tsukishima to experience a better love and to exchange kisses sweeter than this one. He could only wish that the next person Tsukishima was going to kiss would be able to cup his face in the same way he did to Kageyama. 

That wish stomped the pieces of his broken heart, but it did not matter, as long as it was going to patch Tsukishima's own heart. 

"You'll catch a cold if you don't wear your pants, and don't forget to lock up the club room, yeah?" Tsukishima said against his lips. 

Kageyama wasn't opening his eyes. He didn't want to see what kind of expression Tsukishima had on his face, and he didn't want to give his own emotions away by showing his eyes. 

"I'm heading home first, Kageyama." 

He stayed quiet and unmoving on the floor. He felt Tsukishima's hands moving away from his face, and the warmth had been replaced by an empty coldness. He listened to the rustling and shuffling in the room, then the creak of the door and the sound of the rain was not as loud, it was lighter. The cold wind filled the room and enveloped his body. A click of the door, and he was all alone in the club room. 

He peeled his eyes open, staring at the floor with his hands clenched on top of his lap. 

The tears that he had not managed to shed during Kazuyo-san's passing or at the sight of Miwa's retreating back finally found their way out of his eyes and down his cheeks. A particular sharp sob tore his throat, bleeding out of his mouth. He hunched over, his body started to shake, and he couldn't stop his mouth from pouring his cries out. 

The rain stopped eventually, and he just wished his tears would too. 

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a little personal. I don't really talk about it irl, but as I am only another stranger on the internet here, I feel like it's fine to share a bit. That is if anyone cares. I had somewhat a similar relationship with my own late grandfather who made some really kick-ass fried sweet potatoes. Though he was a stoic man with very few words. And the unrequited love part, though I'm not sure if I should call it that, but all I can say is that rejecting someone who you think deserve the whole world can really take a toll on you, or maybe it's just me.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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